I don’t remember what the fight was about. I don’t remember when it started or how it escalated. I don't remember who was to blame. All I remember is the distance.
We were in the same room. Within a few feet of each other, really. But the distance between us was as great as a canyon. It seemed completely insurmountable.
How did we get there? How did we allow such negative space to come between us and how were we supposed to find a bridge to cross it back to the unity and intimacy we had known but a few hours ago?
Harsh words, hurtful accusations, old wounds re-opened had created such a chasm between us that we didn’t know how to find our way back. Thoughts of giving-up, of walking away, of not looking back seemed to come so much more easily than trying to find the shortest distance between us to reach out, grab a hand and jump back to standing on the other side together.
He looked at me. There was deep intent in his eyes. Slowly he began to cross the room. Hesitantly at first, bolder with each step. He reached my side. Took my face between his hands and tightened the grip when I tried to look away, still too angry to let it go.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
Words so simple. And so powerful. Words that built a bridge. The shortest distance found.
My heart dropped the ice that was surrounding it and the connection was built.
No longer far away, we embraced and began the process of healing with words, touch, and understanding.
13 comments:
This is just beautiful. I could see similar scenes in my mind's eye as you described the distance in the room. There is just such simple but awesome power in those two words.
Thanks, Debbie. My husband is far better at this than I am, but I'm learning.
You have a very good man.
Often times, I think to myself, "Sorry will never be enough" as I stew in my own hurt. It never ceases to amaze me, though, when those words are uttered in such the sincere way, that my heart melts and forgiveness ensues.
On another note, I've so missed you at SDG! I hope you'll link this up or link up next week. :)
I do, Heather! He makes me a better person.
Jen, I know. I have been gone from the blog world. I am making time so you will see me at SDG again. I have been reading, though :)
It is so true that a gentle answer or those little words "I'm sorry" alter the entire atmosphere. Like you, I'm learning to speak gently and let go of anger. My husband is much better than I.
You're right, Jennifer. They are so hard to say and yet when spoken in sincerity can cut the tension like a knife.
The shortest distance seems so huge until it is crossed. This is a beautiful picture.
Such a good post. So true. I'm always impressed at how humble my husband is when he's the first to say "sorry". I'm often sooo proud.
It's hard to say you're sorry, isn't it? Usually I am the first to say it, because I really do not like confrontation. So I am impressed by your husband's apology -- mine usually waits for me to go first! :)
Gabby,
What a good reminder to stop and build that bridge. Why do I sometimes wait and analyze and wonder and play out every situation? I need to just get on with it and say those two words.
This is really good writing, Gabby. You can feel your emotion.
Isn't it amazing how something so simple can solve something that feels so complex?! Nice writing.
Gaby, you are soo funny you made me laugh at the comment that you left at my blog for my post today about the persistent pink petunia. I'm not seeing an email link here -- thus this comment on this post, though I have posted before. Thanks for stopping by. I look forward to when you'll be writing again here ---
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